


love, it will (not) betray you

by lucylikestowrite



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Swearing, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylikestowrite/pseuds/lucylikestowrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s real life and you’re walking away from him and you know he’s still standing there and you’re worrying about him, because he always seemed so fucking breakable, but maybe you shouldn’t be, maybe you’re not supposed to be worried about someone after you’ve just broken up with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You leave him standing there, in the rain, and you’re annoyed because it’s such a fucking cliché. If this were a movie there would be swelling music and dramatic editing with close up shots of that drop of water running down your neck, but it isn’t.

It’s real life and you’re walking away from him and you know he’s still standing there and you’re worrying about him, because he always seemed so fucking breakable, but maybe you shouldn’t be, maybe you’re not supposed to be worried about someone after you’ve just broken up with them.

How would you know?

You want to turn back; turn back and turn back time and figure out what went wrong, but you know that’s not an option.

You know that’s not an option, because you know what went wrong: you managed to fuck up something good again. It wasn’t him, of course it wasn’t him, it was you and you’re glad you didn’t use that one on him because it’s another cliché, but it’s achingly true.

You don't know exactly what it was. It wasn't one thing, that's for certain. It was a hundred small things, signs you were messing up. Warning signs.

You’re sure it was you, because when wasn’t it? After all, it was your fault they took so long to get started. If you hadn’t been studiously denying and ignoring any and all feelings you weren’t comfortable with, if you hadn’t pushed them to the back of your mind and filed them away for when they made you less scared, if you’d talked to him instead of anyone but, maybe you would have had a better chance.

Maybe.

Or maybe you were always meant to finally properly fuck it up in the rain at nearly midnight, the day before you were both going to leave for uni.

\--

_It’s drizzling and you don’t care. It’s drizzling, which is absolutely typical for summer in Auckland, and it looks like the rain might get worse, and you don’t have an umbrella, and there’s no shelter at the bus stop, but you don’t care, because Balthazar’s been in Whangarei with relatives for a week since school broke up. Sure - before, you would have missed him, and maybe you don’t miss him before, just differently. It’s strange and new and maybe you’re a little too used to having him five minutes away._

_You’ve been waiting twenty minutes, and you finally look down at your phone, plug in your headphones and turn on some music._

_And then someone taps your shoulder and yanks out an earbud._

_“You planning on murdering that phone?”_

_You spin around, momentarily disoriented, and then relax, smiling slightly._

_“You just looked really angry at it, is all.”_

_“Maybe I was pissed it told me you’d be here twenty minutes ago?”_

_"Ah. Sorry about that. We got delayed. You didn't have to wait."_

_"Yeah, I did."_

_He smiles at you and you almost don't notice how cold you're getting. Almost._

_"Come on," you say, tugging the suitcase out of his hand. He starts to protest, but you're already moving._

_The rain gets heavier._

\--

You were meant to drive down to Wellington with him. That doesn't happen. You're pretty sure that your parents must have communicated with his after you got in at past midnight last night, soaking wet and with a face like murder. No-one mentions it. Somehow John manages to keep up some semblance of conversation for the entire 8 hour journey. You don't join in. You figure you'll have to be social once you get there, so you're at least allowed to mope for the time being.

Maybe you can start over, with someone new. Maybe this time you won't mess everything up.


	2. Chapter 2

Sure, Wellington feels tiny after having lived in Auckland all of your life, but it's big enough for what you need. And what you need is to avoid him.  
  
It's been easy enough so far; you took different courses, he's living with Bea and Ben and you're in halls, and, if Wikipedia is correct, there are approximately 393,599 people in Wellington who aren't him.  
  
And yeah, maybe you're not finding it hard to find people to talk to, but sometimes all you want is to rock up at their flat and forget about everything. In fact, you're almost sure Bea and Ben wouldn't turn you away, but the thought of what would happen next makes your stomach flip.  
  
You think about how if this were any other country, you probably wouldn't have anyone you knew with you, and how ridiculous it is that it's been a month and you haven't seen any of them yet.  
  
Obviously the universe agrees with you, because you're browsing the book store with a friend called Maria, who has just broken up with her boyfriend, and doesn't want to date, and is exactly the friend you need right now, and you turn a corner, and he's right there. He must have heard your voice because he's staring directly at you and it hurts, and you have to keep reminding yourself that this is your fault, that if you hadn't screwed things up you wouldn't be in this situation.  
  
Neither of you talk and neither of you move and you're not sure if he's breathing.  
  
You're certainly not.  
  
Your heart has sped up so much that you think you might be going into cardiac arrest.  
  
He looks away and the spell is broken and you shove the textbooks you were holding back on the shelve, and get out of there as quickly as you can, Maria trying and failing to keep up. You don't stop until you're outside, and then you remember to breathe, your heart rate slowly subsiding.  
  
You're so angry and so sad and overwhelmed and you don't know how you thought it would affect you when it eventually happened, but you're sure you didn't think it would be like this.  
  
You want to punch something. But you don't. You sit down and breathe some more, your head in your hands.  
  
"Pedro?"  
  
She has finally caught up.  
  
"You gonna tell me what that was in there? It was kinda intense. Did you guys used to be friends or something?"  
  
Pausing, you contemplate whether you're ready to go through this, but you decide she'll probably figure it out on her own if you don't tell her.  
  
You look up, and take a deep breath.  
  
"You know how I told you I'd just broken up with someone?"  
  
"Yeah?" She hasn't got it yet. Why would she?  
  
You gesture back inside the building.  
  
"Oh."  
  
She seems to be processing it, but you're not sure in which way.  
  
"So you're gay?"  
  
"Nah. Bi."  
  
She smiles, and you let out the breath.  
  
"Cool."  
  
\--  
  
 _"You're sure you want to tell them?" Balthazar says from across his room, his head bent over his guitar. "We can just keep hanging out here, you know?"_  
  
 _You sigh, leaning back against his headboard. "I don't want to tell them, but that doesn't mean I don't have to. John keeps hinting that I should. I think he's getting sick of me disappearing off here all the time."_  
  
 _"And they're not?"_  
  
 _"They're used to it, I guess."_  
  
 _And that's the problem. Your parents have known him as Balthazar: Pedro's Best Friend for years. Your parents don't knock when Balthazar: Pedro's Best Friend is over. They just come in, because that's what you do when you've known someone their entire life. And that terrifies you. The thought of them finding out by accident is a thousand times worse than the thought of telling them yourself. But that doesn't mean you didn't want put it off as long as possible._  
  
 _You're silent, breathing in and out, and the only sound is Balthazar quietly strumming, and you're beginning to fully comprehend what a good thing you've got going here, and you're so petrified of messing it up._  
  
 _And so you stay like that for a little longer, and then a little longer._

_"I'm gonna do it."_

_"Now? D'you want me to come with you?"_

_"Yes," you nod. "Yes, definitely, please."_

_You're back home before you even know, your heart pounding._

_He's on the porch, a step up from you, and you kiss him quickly and then ring the bell before you can chicken out._

_He side-eyes you. "No key?"_

_"I was in a rush."_

_The door swings open._

_"Pedro!" Your mum is smiling at you, and you have to believe that she still will be in 30 seconds. "You're back soon!"_

_"I have to tell you and dad something."_

_"Oh. And Balthazar needs to be here, too?"_

_"Yeah," you say, half dragging him by his cuffs through to the living room, and psych yourself up while your mum follows._

_"We're going out. Dating. Whatever."_

_They're silent for a second, then your dad speaks._

_"So, you're gay?"_

_"Bi. I'm bi. Cool?" You look at their faces and they seem to be surprised but not negatively. "Cool. We're going to go back to my room, then."_

_By the time you close your door behind you and he kisses you again, you can almost believe it's going to be plain sailing from here on out._

_\--_

When you finally make it back to the halls, you are by yourself and used to it and it fucking sucks.

You're not sure what to do because the only person you want to talk to is the only person you can't.

And you can't even ask yourself if it was worth putting ten years of friendship on the line for the five months you got, because it absolutely was and you'd do it again a thousand times without hesitating.

You'd rather be stuck in a loop of summer than be here, now, with the sun rising on autumn and everything that the summer was in pieces at your feet.


	3. Chapter 3

The party's okay, you suppose. You don't really have much to compare it to, since you haven't really been to many. In fact, since 'The Incident', as you've started to refer to it in your head, you haven't been out out at all. Which you assume is why Maria has dragged you to this one.

You talk to some people, you drink alcohol, you talk some more, but it all feels like little more than a façade. You're not happy, but at least you're not sad.

That is, until Maria tugs on your shirt. "Hey. Isn't that your..." she trails off. You spin round. See him.

"... ex."

Yes, it is.

It's your ex tugging on the shirt of some guy. It's your ex kissing some guy who isn't you and it's a punch in the gut.

_\--_

_You hadn't been sure about coming today, but Balthazar had specifically asked, and Ursula had seemed eager you were there. And maybe you also just wanted to see him, to do something normal and unextraordinary and for a little while try to forget the mess that had driven you so far apart. Maybe you want something extraordinary._

_Maybe you want something extraordinary because not seeing him seems to have let all the feelings you've pushed away in the past come back, and come back with a vengeance. All of a sudden all you can think about is him, and you need to **something** so that you don't lose him forever. _

_You three had gotten into a bit of a rhythm with the past two songs; Balthazar singing and Ursula filming and you editing, and so when you got there you stand a bit to the side of the camera, out of the way, ready to be encouraging but not expecting much to relate to you until it's time for post-production._

_You were wrong. Somehow, the song feels even more intensely personal than that damn love song, and you can see now why they wanted you here. They wanted you to understand and you don't know how to say that you already do, already did. The song is sad and quietly angry but also hopeful. **You** are hopeful._

_You're not sure if you look away the entire time he is singing; certainly, every time he looks up, you are there to meet his gaze._

_And then it's over and Ursula is leaving and handing you the SD card and giving you meaningful looks. Sometimes you think Ursula probably knows more about you and your friends than anyone else does. Sometimes you're sure._

_The video isn't hard to edit - Ursula kept it simple, so it's just a matter of trimming at either ends, adding the title card and the black and white filter, and uploading. You do this silently, Balthazar a metre away, quietly picking out chords on his keyboard._

_It takes you the entire time the video is uploading to figure out what to put in the description. It feels so important; make or break, and you don't want to mess it up. In the end you're happy with: 'Another song by Balthazar. Genuine as always.'_

_Or at least you're happy with it until you pass the laptop when it goes up, and Balthazar blanches. You can see him reading and rereading it, and you want to break the silence, but you're not sure how, so you stand up, abruptly, and that seems to do the trick._

_He looks up at you, and then down again at his hands. "Shit, man, what does that mean?"_

_"I don't- I don't know. Something. Nothing," you pause, your heart pounding, running a hand through your hair. "It means that I..."_

_You trail off and you realise that even now you're not brave enough to do it._

_"Fuck. I should go. I should go."_

_"No," now it's Balthazar's turn to stand up, and you're aware of how much closer it makes his face to yours._

_"No, Balth, I, I really should," his eyes are flicking up and down, and you swallow, and you know that you should do something, that this is your chance._

_And then he does it for you._

_"Shut up, Pedro," he says, smiling slightly._

_One second his hands are by his side, and the next second the front of your t-shirt is bunched up in one of them, and he's kissing you. He's kissing you, but you're not kissing him back, if that's possible, because you're frozen. Maybe it's shock, or maybe it's fear, which wouldn't make sense because this everything you knew you wanted, but you're frozen all the same._

_He's noticed, and he rocks backward, away from you, eyes wide, and you unfreeze. This time, you manage it.  
_

_When you kiss him you feel like you are home._

_\--_

You look away. Close your eyes. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Rationally, you shouldn't have anything against this. **You** ended it.

Irrationally, you are angry or sad or both.

Rationally, he can kiss whoever he wants.

Irrationally, he should only be kissing you.

You grit your teeth. "What's he doing now?"

She sighs. "They're still ki- oh wait, no. They've stopped. Balthazar's, um, I think he's seen you. Yep. Um, he's coming over."

The image of Balthazar and that guy is clouding your vision. All you want to do is make him feel how you're feeling.

You turn slightly, back to her. "Will you let me kiss you right now, if I promise you can judge me for being petty later?"

She sighs, again, then shrugs. "Sure. I'd probably do the same if it was David."

You kiss her, and you feel nothing.

And then you break apart, and see his face, and you feel a thousand times worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a while


	4. Chapter 4

You still love him, because you never managed to make yourself stop, and that is the problem.

\--

_Balthazar went away again, in the last couple of weeks of the holidays, to a music residential that he's been going on ever since you can remember. He got back with a week to go before uni starts, and you were looking forward to spending those last seven days of freedom with him._

_But after he got back, you watched him change, right in front of your eyes. He got distant, and quiet; much more than usual, you were sure. You were sure you weren't just being paranoid, sure it wasn't just you being over protective._

_And you were right._

_Other people commented on it, small asides in group meet-ups - "Is Balth okay?" - or whispers behind hands - "He seems kinda off..." - or iMessages late at night, laden with sad faces and question marks._

_But everyone seemed to expect you to be the one to figure it, and why wouldn't they? That's your job, right? But you don't want to push him, don't want to break what is already fragile and balanced on the promise that you won't betray his trust, and so you don't ask, hoping that he'll tell you, come to you in his own time.  
_

_You watch, and listen, and try to be there whenever you can. And you kiss him. You kiss him a lot, but at some point the kisses stop making him smile, and start being tinged with sadness, a sadness that lingers long afterwards._

_And the longer you go without asking him, the harder it becomes - especially because, at the back of your mind, there is the thought that is is you: you are doing something wrong, you are hurting him, you've messed it up somehow, done something._

_And the longer you go with this thought in your mind, the more you are convinced it's what's happening. You convince yourself that you're the problem, convince yourself so much that it blinds you, that it's all you can think of._

_You love him so fucking much it overwhelms you, years and years of the old love and this new love that is so intense it scares you. But what scares you more is hurting him, and if you're doing that by being with him, there's really only one thing you can do._

_You put it off, and off, because you're selfish and if it has to end, you want to make the most of it._

_But then you can't put it off any more, because you're leaving for university in the morning, and you're round his house, and it's gotten dark so you're leaving, and it's raining, and this is your last chance._

_He kisses you goodbye and you try not to think how much of goodbye this is._

_"Balth?"_

_You run your hands through your hair. You haven't thought enough about how to do this. You didn't want to think about it._

_"Shit. I'm sorry, Balth."_

_He's looking confused, which is understandable, since you're currently apologising for nothing. But you need to end it, and it needs to be on you. It has to be on you. You can't let him blame himself._

_"It's over. We're over. Done. Whatever."_

_"What? No."_

_You keep telling yourself that this is for the best, that if you end it, if you're the bad guy, it'll be okay, but he's staring you down, his hand on your elbow and you know he won't let you go just like that. So you go one step further, and it almost hurts to say it._

_"You were just a thing. I don't know. A phase."_

_He drops his hand._

_And you are glad it's dark._

_You turn away._

_\--_

Nothing is right and everything is wrong and you miss him. _  
_


	5. Chapter 5

You've managed not to think about him for an entire day now, which is pretty impressive considering the deep pit of despair you were in a week ago. Or you had, until you hit shuffle, hear the first few chords of the song that starts playing, and find that you can't hit pause fast enough.

You hold the phone, feeling like it's burning you, your hands shaking, his name and face on a ridiculous album cover you had insisted on making looking up at you, and it's like he's taunting you.

You don't know why you still have it and yet you know exactly why, and the play button is staring you down, daring you to unpause.

It is a staring contest that you lose.

The song starts again, the notes resonating throughout the room.

"Seems about time that these words were spoken..."

\--

_When you get there at about 9:30, he's already there and looks like he has been for a while - sheet music and coffee cups are strewn at his feet, and there are music cases open behind him._

_You have had approximately 5 hours of sleep and it definitely wasn't enough._

_"Hey."_

_He looks up and laughs. "Wow. Um, are you sure you're awake? Do you need to, like, nap backstage?"_

_"I am at least 75% awake," you make it up to the stage and wave your cup in his face. "And I will be at least 85% awake once I've finished this."_

_"Yeah, sure, 'Petro'," he pauses, then turns away, clearly purposely not looking at you. "I saw the description - if you were up til three you really didn't have to come."_

_"It was actually four by the time I got home but who cares," you grab his elbow, spinning him around. " **Obviously** I had to come."_

_"No, but-"_

_You kiss him and that seems to shut him up._

_"Anyway, I told people to be there or be square, so I couldn't exactly not turn up, could I?"_

_He smiles and maybe you are 90% awake._

_You settle down in the front row, watching him rehearse, and then when other people start to filter in, he texts you from backstage._

_You look up when someone sits down next to you. Ben looks remarkably less awake than you do._

_"Woah, man. You look-"_

_"Terrible. I am aware, Pedro," he puts his head in his hands. "I need a full ten hours. I cannot **function** without sleep."_

_"You were the one who was so determined to get that video up."_

_"Pedro. The people need to know how much of a genius I am."_

_"Well. We're both very appreciative."_

_He sits back in his chair, seemingly satisfied, and then texts Beatrice until she arrives._

_At ten o'clock exactly, Balthazar the ever punctual, comes on stage._

_"Hey. Um, yeah. Hi. So this is, a, er, thing that I'm doing. My, er, significant other, has been trying to persuade me to do something like this for a while, and it's almost our one month anniversary, so. Yeah."_

_He ducks his head, smiling._

_"You know who you are."_

_He searches for you against the lights._

_Ben is tapping you repeatedly on the shoulder. You turn to him._

_"Yeah. A little late, mate."_

_You turn back and he finds you. The song starts._

\--

The last notes fade out and you realise that your hands are holding the phone a little too tightly, and that you've stopped breathing. Or maybe you haven't. Maybe you're just breathing entirely too fast.

Neither is good.

None of this is good, nothing is good, you're not good, not good at all, you're not okay, you're suffering, and it's things like what you've just done which are doing this to you. Which is why you need to get rid of them, why you **should** get rid of them.

Your finger hovers over the delete button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just one more i think


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so there's a slight trigger warning on this for homophobia. it's not graphic or talked about in much detail and i don't want to say too much bc #spoilers but jsyk

Your phone lights up with Bea's face, and you almost drop it, having stared at that little red box for at least 30 seconds.

After the shock comes panic, because she hasn't called you since you broke up with him, and you don't know why she would be now.

"Um, hey, Bea. Is everything alright? Has something happened?"

"Nothing is happening, and that is the problem," her anger is tangible, even on the phone. "You fucked him up, Pedro, and we don't know how because he's not talking to us and you need to come here and **fix** this."

You want to go over there, you really do. You want to go over and make everything right but you don't know how.

"Bea," you sigh. "I really don't think it's something I can fix just like that."

"Pedro? That absolutely was not a request."

You don't argue with that and you didn't really want to.

It doesn't take you long to get over there - you realise as make your way over that you've been unconsciously planning the route to their house - you don't even have to think about it.

Bea opens the door, her arms quickly crossing, and she's trying to look angry but there's a small smile and you guess she's missed you, too. She beckons you in, silently, and leads you through the flat to a closed door.

You hesitate and she stares you down.

"I am absolutely not letting you out until you guys have sorted something out. Like, literally, anything is better than this."

-

_You pull him outside, desperately trying to stop yourself from laughing. When you turn back to him it looks like he's struggling to keep a straight face, as well._

_"I think we sold it. Or, I guess, John did. He was really very convincingly on Ben's team. Like, seriously, I'm not surprised Ben really thought he was getting us together. John is scarily good at acting," you say, your smile ridiculously wide now._

_"Yeah, I, er," he says, ducking his head. "I think it's maybe a good thing I was at the front. I think, maybe, I'm not cut out for acting. Probably."_

_This isn't a surprise to you. He's always been absolutely, unapologetically, open (even if it took you a while to notice that)._

_"And that's why I-"_

_A voice behind you stops you._

_"Hey Pedro, um, do you know where Ben is?"_

_"Yeah, he's in Hero's room," you say, gesturing vaguely behind you._

_"And he's doing **what** in there?"_

_"Filming. Maybe come back in a little while?"_

_She rolls her eyes and turns away. You're pretty sure you hear her muttering something bitter under her breath._

_You focus your attention back on Balthazar - he's crossed his arms, and is looking at you expectantly. "And that's why you what?"_

_"Don't ask stupid questions," you say, laughing. "Come on!"_

_He's not moving._

_"You know, it's really gonna be quite hard for me to tell you how much I love you at our almost-anniversary concert if you just stand there all night."_

_"Yeah, whatever."_

_Maybe his mouth says something else but it probably gets lost in yours._

-

You knock, and when the door swings open, the first thing you notice is how small he seems.

The second is the fact that this room, this space you are staring at is entirely his and not even a little bit yours; it's completely unfamiliar to you and for a moment you stand there, not sure how to deal with that fact.

And then Bea pushes you over the threshold, closes the door behind you, and the silence is deafening. He's looking everywhere but you, and you're looking nowhere but him.

You don't blink. He finally meets your eyes and you catch your breath and it all seems very insignificant but also incredibly important.

He gestures at the bed and you sit on the edge, still feeling like an interloper in this strange room and you hate it.

He sits down next you. And you wait, listening to the sound of your breaths. You wait, because you're not the one who should be speaking first.

When he speaks, when he breaks the silence, he's looking away from you again but it would be impossible not to hear.

"Why did you do it?"

You almost laugh at the amount of shitty things you've done lately that he could be referring to.

"You're gonna have to be more specific, Balth."

This time he looks at you. "Why did we break up? And don't give me that shit about it being a phase because that's not true."

You run your hands through your hair. "I thought- I thought it was me. I thought I was doing something wrong and I thought I was hurting you and I didn't want that because I lo- and I didn't know what to do, and so I ended it so the blame stayed on me. And god, if that was wrong, if I was wrong, I am so sorry."

He looks at you in disbelief. "Unbelievable. I didn't even tell you and you still managed to blame yourself."

Something inside you freezes at the way he says that. It is incredulous but also bitter and sad and it terrifies you.

"Balth. Balthazar. What didn't you tell me?"

"No, I-"

"Balthazar. Please."

He's looking at his lap, his fingers fiddling with his cuffs.

"It um, it turns out that if you're out in one place, it doesn't mean you're out everywhere."

He pauses, and it looks like he's scared to carry on.

"At the residential, all the students were staying in halls. There was a group of really, um, conservative guys, and they were always talking about their girlfriends so I just kept quiet."

He leans forward, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so hard that his knuckles go white.

Your little finger is touching his, and you're concentrating on that, because you don't want to hear what comes next.

"But then, um, I left my phone in my room and you were texting me and my room-mate saw the texts and the lock screen and he put two and two together, and they didn't like that very much," his voice gets quieter. "They really didn't like that, actually. They got me pretty bad, so I, er, I just left and I went to stay at my aunt's until it was meant to end. And then when I got back every time anyone talked about university I realised that it was gonna be a whole new set of people. Like, at Messina nobody cared, and I got used to that but some people do care, and I," he pauses. "I had the bruises to prove it."

"They hurt you? They actually physically hurt you?" You realise that your hands are curling into fists. Anger is clouding your vision. You're so mad about what they did, so mad that you didn't ask what was wrong.

He shrugs, and at the same time his fingers slip in between yours and you calm down, just a little bit. You've missed that.

"And it was all because of me." His head whips up and you grit your teeth. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to do this! I knew you'd just get angry and guilty because that's just what you do, and I didn't want that; I didn't want you to blame yourself! There was nothing you could have done."

Maybe that's true. Maybe you couldn't have stopped them hurting him, even if you would have wanted to. But that doesn't mean he's right, that there's **nothing** you could have done.

"I could have not broken up with you. We could still be together. We could be together right now."

"Is that what you want?"

He's looking at you like he used to and you can't bear it. You can't tell him anything but the truth. Your time for lying and self-sacrificing is over.

"I love you," you say, and you're looking directly at him and it's the truest thing you've ever said. He is staring back, and he smiles and shifts and you brace yourself for anything.

But only one thing happens, and that is that he's kissing you like you're sure he never has before, one hand on the back of your neck, the other crushed in between your chests. Your hands are wrapped around his waist, and even when you break apart (although you're not even sure you still need air), leaning into each other, you don't let go and you don't want to.

But something inside you feels guilty, because you still hurt him, that still happened and you don't want to ignore that, and you say as much, but he just forgives you over and over again and you're aware of how little you deserve him.

And no, that doesn't fix everything, you know that. Everything will have to change, and you can deal with that, but for now you're okay with just kissing him until your head spins and making this strange room a little bit more yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there we go. That's done. Hope you liked it. Thank you so much for all the people who responded so vocally; I absolutely love getting angry comments, it's my favourite thing. I hope this was satisfying (if it was please let me know in the comments thank you very much).
> 
> Also: as I assume everyone noticed the flashbacks weren't in chronological order. If you wanted to read the story chronologically it would go as follows: Ch 3 Flashback Ch 2 Flashback Ch 6 Flashback Ch 5 Flashback Ch 1 Flashback Ch 4 Flashback Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIED. THAT WASN'T THE END. or it was, but then i really wanted to write more, so this is happening. i figure it works out nicely for all of us. maybe go back and read the end of the last chapter since it carries directly on.

Or you were, because being here, kissing him, feels more right than anything ever has, and it's so easy to persuade yourself that if you ignore all the things that you've done, that they'll go away. Because your hands are in his hair and his in yours, and your breath is his, and it makes you want to forget.

Makes you want to think that, yes, this is okay, that you deserve him or should be allowed to just accept his forgiveness. You know that half an hour you were kidding yourself that everything was going to be fine, and god, you want to believe it.

And when you're not kissing him, when you're staring at him, his pupils blown out, his fingers intertwined with yours, his chest rising and falling slowly, it's so unbelievably easy to believe this.

But you can't just let it go, and so you break your gaze and untangle your fingers and wipe your hand over your face. "Balth. We need to talk. Properly."

His eyes go wide, and he hesitates for just a second. "No we don't," he says, leaning back in towards you, and you want to let him.

But you don't. You stand up abruptly, and he follows, a split second later. "Then I need to go."

"What? No," he dismisses it with almost as much ease as the first time, already moving closer to you.

"I can't stay here if we're not going to talk about all the things that I've done. I thought I could, but I can't."

"I don't care about that, I've already forgiven you" he says quietly, and you want to let it go, want to do anything but what you are: moving backwards, away from his reach, and you know you look ridiculous, but you can't quite bring yourself to turn your back on him.

"You should care more."

"But I don't," his voice is stony, and there is something in his eyes that isn't quite adamant and isn't quite fear.

And then you hit the wall, fumbling for the door handle ineffectually. You've got nowhere to go and he's right in front of you, and it would be so easy to let him kiss you, because his hands are already attached to the front of your jacket, pulling you in, and when you bring your hands up to his chest, his heart is beating faster than you could have ever imagined, and you're so close to letting go.

But you don't.

It might as well be raining, because you're having flashbacks to last time, and maybe he is too, because he's not letting go easily, and when you push him away ever so slightly, his fingers stay clinging on to your shirt until you carefully remove them, his eyes racing over your hands like your touch is burning him.

You sigh, closing your eyes and running a hand through your hair.

Silence hangs in the room once again, staying for almost longer than you can bear. Neither of you moves.

"Why don't you care?"

He shrugs, not looking at you.

"Why don't you hate me? After everything I've done, everything I've said... You're just ignoring it all and I can't deal with that. You deserve better. I don't deserve your fucking forgiveness. You should hate me. Why don't you hate me?"

And then his head snaps up, and something has changed in his gaze. He moves closer, back into your space, shaking his head.

"You don't get it, do you?" You open your mouth, but he continues on anyway, his voice hard and getting louder. "I do hate you."

You blink, and he stares back at you, eyes wide as though he's not sure why he said it.

"When you left I hated you so much. More than I'd ever hated anyone," his voice rises further, until it's only just below a shout. "And I still do. I hate that you left when you did. I hate what you said to get me to give up. I still hate everything you did with Claudio and John. Fuck, man, I haven't just forgotten it all. I don't think I'm ever going to be able forget any of it. I certainly can't just ignore it."

The list of your wrongdoings sobers you, as does his bluntness. "Then why are we even here? If you hate me so much?"

"You know, I'd thought I'd made that pretty clear with the kissing, but I guess not. You fucked up, Pedro, and I hate that so much. But I love you so much more, so much more that it hurts," and finally he smiles again, and you go weak, because when he smiles it is completely and utterly disarming."I've liked you since Year Nine, yeah? Now I know for sure you still feel the same way, I'm definitely not letting you go just because you were stupid enough to break up with me one time. Forgiving isn't forgetting and you still broke my heart, okay? But I've moved past it, and I just don't want to talk about it anymore. I've used up all my energy, and god, I've written more than enough sad songs, and I'd just really like to not have any reason to write any more. Which we were managing just fine until you decided to get all dramatic and masochistic."

You just stare, your chest rising and falling, taking in this speech that he seems almost surprised to have managed. His eyes are flicking up and down, and he rocks on his feet slightly, as if he's about to move away.

"It's your turn to do something, Pedro," he says, so quietly you wouldnt hear if you weren't so close.

"I don't want to hurt you again," you manage to say, because for some reason you're breathless, and it's making it very hard to speak.

"I won't let you," he says, and you believe him. And that's when you give in for the second time today, except this time you're not kidding yourself that it'll be okay - you know it will.

He's right in front of you, and tugging him close enough is easy, and when you finally kiss him a again, your hands holding on tight to the front of his blazer, unwilling to let go, the tables turned, it feels like you are finally back on the right path, after stepping off of it what seems like a lifetime ago. You smile against his mouth, and he smiles back and-

There is a knock on the door. "Are you guys okay in there?" Bea's voice echoes through the walls. "It's just that there was shouting, and now it's really quiet, and we're a little worried Balthazar's murdered Pedro. Which he probably deserves anyw-"

There is a thud, and this time Ben is speaking up. "What Beatrice meant to say, is 'please come out (no pun intended), we miss our friend and want to talk to him, but also don't if you're just going to make out in the living room.'"

"I didn't mean that, actually, Benedick."

"Anyway. We'll be out here when you guys decide to surface."

They stay silent for a minute or so, wrapped up in eachother, until they hear something muttered outside the door and footsteps moving away.

"So Bea's still holding a bit of a grudge, then?" Pedro whispers, still not entirely sure they're gone.

"Yeah, she was almost as heartbroken as me. She, um, helped me write a few of the songs."

"Really?"

"No, not really," he says, grinning. "All the lyrics were fuelled by my heartbreak, and my heartbreak alone."

You grimace, and tell yourself that that's never happening again. "Am I gonna get to hear any of the songs?"

Balthazar ducks his head. "They don't paint you in a very flattering light."

"So they've got a bit of a Taylor Swift vibe going for them? I probably deserve a few songs tearing me down."

He laughs, an actual proper laugh, and it really has been a long time since you heard that.

"Yeah, I s'pose so. Taylor Swift-like. 'Dear Pedro'. Maybe I'll show you them someday. But first I think I need to write a new one."

-

_"Potentially_

_this could be_

_a new beginning_

_for you and me"_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. i've had this in my drafts since last year with about 300 words written. and today i was procrastinating revision so of course i finished it. you can hold the applause at how neatly i fitted into canon. (that is until lll starts and they OBVIOUSLY REVEAL HOW EXACTLY IT WENT DOWN AROUND ONE FOOT bc lemme tell you that honestly haunts me). also i am UNASHAMED that i managed to slip taylor swift in there. everyone is closest taylor fan, lbr. Dear Pedro is obvs a reference to 'Dear John', in my opinion the most brutal tswift song in terms of tearing the ex's character. All too well is a close second. Those lyrics tho. This is like very much inspired by little lion man by Mumford & sons, which you might know I relate pedrazar a lot to if you follow me on Twitter/tumblr. I mean 'but it was not your fault but mine/and it was your heart on the line/I really fucked it up his time/didnt I my dear' is pretty much this chapter. Also sorry this end-note turned into an essay. And also I thrive off of comments please comment. I really think this is over now.

**Author's Note:**

> [FRONT COVER](http://odetopedrazar.tumblr.com/post/111979259900/love-it-will-not-betray-you-by-lucylivesherlife) BY THE AMAZING ODETOPEDRAZAR 
> 
>  
> 
> I know it's short and also potentially v bad but there'll be more hopefully idk man. I don't do boys u know me. comments and kudos, as always, GREATLY appreciated.


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